To Serve Sithis
by ghostanimal
Summary: Sequel to The Dark Brotherhood: Expanding the Family: Lucien has always felt that this wasn't his real family. After helping two strangely familiar persons with their broken wagon wheel, he finds answers to questions he never dared to ask.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.

* * *

I always had a feeling that this wasn't my real family, that this hadn't truly been the way I've lived my life. But I knew better than to argue. What fact did I have other than a feeling to prove myself?

To be honest, my memories of life prior to my seventh year of life are blank, or just blend in confusing blurs. My earliest memory that is clear enough for me to speak of was being very ill in bed, my favorite nursemaid Neesha hovering over me with cool cloths on my head and fresh potions in hand as I wheezed and coughed throughout the night.

According to Neesha, I had always grown up under her, my other nursemaid, Brelda, and Neesha's husband, Cyrus in the stone city of Markarth, but that I had been born in Windhelm. My name is Mathies, born to a beautiful Nord mother who died upon my birth. My father was Jarl Ulfric, who sent me to live with my nursemaids for my protection due to the Imperials wanting his, and those he held dear's, blood on their hands. Neesha and Cyrus were like a mother and father to me, while Brelda was similar to a grouchy aunt that I would hide from when she came over.

I hated Brelda, and that dreadful Dunmer woman hated me equally. I could say she even feared me some. She spoke often to Neesha in hushed tones when they thought I was asleep about how my soul was dark, that I was an odd child. That I must be a child of Sithis, that there was a dark spirit possessing me. I never remembered what actions I did to make them believe this, but apparently it was enough to make the Redguard couple worry.

My entire life, whenever I got angry, I needed to shout. This isn't odd, for everybody needs to just scream every now and then. But I never seemed to shout like normal people. No, no no. When I screamed like I desired to, the earth seemed to shake some and objects would shatter and fly about me. The first time I did it, Brelda rushed in and smacked me, telling me that I was never to do that again. When I questioned why, she smacked me again, and the conversation ended.

This was not the only oddity.

Neesha and Brelda told me that I was a Nord like my parents, but I didn't feel nor look like a Nord. My Nord playmates stood much taller than me, even as I grew. I suffered pneumonia from the cold while the true Nords were in fine health.

My hair was a dark copper, but Neesha and Brelda insisted I become blond. Whenever my hair grew, Neesha insisted on shampooing my hair with a potion so that it appeared blond. I had asked several times the reasoning behind this, but Neesha's sheepish answer was that I looked cuter as a blond. I disagreed. I happened to like the small example of my true hair color I saw before Neesha covered it with her potion. But my opinion didn't matter. A blond I became.

Cyrus often took me hunting with him. Although he skilled me in the blade and bow, I took pleasure in a hunting tactic that he found quite strange. I loved to slip behind my kill and commit their murder with one good slit of the throat. A master of sneak I quickly became. I could sneak up on bears and with one good slash of my Skyforge steel, I could kill him with one blow to the neck. Cyrus only took joy in this due to how intact I would leave the fur, making it easy to skin and even easier for him to sell. The steel was another thing that always peaked my interest. I never quite understood how I had the weapon, despite never remembering or being told of a trip to Whiterun, where said steel was made.

It was engraved too.

_Kill well and often._

The engraving didn't disturb me like it did Brelda, but instead made me curious. What led the engraver to inscribe such a thing? It made sense, giving that it was a dagger. But I couldn't help but feel like it meant something more. A code I needed to decipher that may be connected to my mixed feelings concerning my true life.

My father often sent me a new blade or an enchanted bow, but I always found myself using that Skyforge steel. Along with these gifts, he sent letters to both Neesha and I. To me he sent letters telling me that I need to follow Neesha's rules and Brelda's orders, that he loved me and some generally things that was going on. His letters to Neesha told her what he wanted me to learn, some rules she wanted to start reinforcing, and in return she would write to him about my health, what I have learned, how much I have grown in height and strength and the troubles she was having with me. But she rarely had troubles worthy of noting to him. I was a good child.

I was also expected to send letters back, telling a father I barely knew and never remembered meeting that I loved him as well, how I was doing and sharing my experiences with him.

Shortly after I celebrated my eighteenth year, I sent my father a letter requesting his permission for me to make the journey to Whiterun so that I may join the Companions. I was now considered a man by many. Not just in age, but Neesha believed that I had the maturity of one and Cyrus swore to my having the strength of a brave warrior. A month later, he returned my message. He wrote about his internal conflict on the matter, but ultimately decided that it would be good for me to join such an honorable group that fought and killed for good reason. He gave his blessings, but I must be ready to go to my home with him in Windhelm when I reached my twentieth year.

With permission granted, I kissed my favorite nursemaid goodbye, saluted my fatherly trainer and nodded respectfully towards the dreadful Dunmer before I mounted a horse and set off on my lonesome to Whiterun.

But on the trail, just shortly before I reached Rorkistead where I planned to stay for the night, I met a strangely familiar young girl standing next to a Redguard. Beside them was a wagon, a small coffin in the back and the front right wheel in complete pieces next to it. I believe one of the best decisions I ever made was pulling over and asking how I could help them.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.

* * *

The girl looked up with me with an innocent smile.

"Do you know how to fix a wagon wheel?" she asked, glancing at the Redguard. He was bent over the wheel, growling in frustration as he tried to fix it. "Nazir has no clue what he's doing."

The man scowled and threw his tools at the ground, standing slowly.

"I'm old, Babette!" he snarled, wiping sweat from his forehead. His beard was mostly grey and the hair I could see from under his Redguard hood was mostly grey as well. "I don't see you trying to help!"

"I'm not exactly built for manual labor," she muttered at him, rolling her eyes.

"Like I haven't heard that excuse a million times," he grouched.

"Either way, you can rest your old man bones now, because it seems like we have a strong warrior that'll fix it for us," the girl told him before turning to me. "Well, can you?"

"I can if you have the tools," I responded. Nazir motioned towards the tools he angrily threw to the ground as he sat on a nearby rock. I picked them up before bending over the wheel. "Where are you two headed?"

"We're headed to Riften...to bury my mother," Babette said a bit slowly. I glanced up at the coffin in the wagon. Yes, that made sense.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I told her sincerely. She nodded towards me.

"Where are you headed?" Nazir wondered.

"Whiterun," I said proudly, flashing them a grin. "Going to join the Companions."

"Honorable people," Babette commented. She looked curiously at me before switching her gaze to Nazir. She shot him a questioning look, which he looked confused at. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her jerk her head towards me and give a bright smile before giving him a Look.

"Boy, what's your name?" he asked me. I looked at him. He was staring intently at me, making me uncomfortable.

"Mathies," I said slowly, glancing between the two. Babette looked at Nazir, who was too busy still looking at me. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You just...you looked kind of familiar," Nazir admitted, finally breaking his gaze. I just nodded and continued working on their wheel. I heard him faintly mutter to Babette. "There's no way. This guy's a blonde. And has a correct state of mind."

"Excuse me for thinking I saw the fool's grin on him," Babette muttered back.

When I finally finished, I stood and gave Nazir his tools back.

"Going to Rorikistead for the night?" I asked them. Babette shook her head.

"We planned on it, but our horse got a good rest, so we're just going to head on to Whiterun," Nazir explained, nodding towards their horse, snoozing peacefully nearby.

I collected and hooked their horse up for them. Babette climbed into the driver's seat as Nazir crawled in the back. Within moments, I could hear the Redguard snoring away. Babette giggled at him.

"Old indeed, Nazir," she said with a smile, shaking her head. "Anyway, thanks for the help. Maybe we'll see you on our way back home in Whiterun."

"Maybe," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. Babette lightly whipped the horse, and it neighed before pulling the wagon at a steady pace. I watched them go on before I mounted my own steed and trotted down the trail to Rorikstead.

* * *

After a night in the Frostfruit Inn, I made it to Whiterun. Night had fallen again by the time I had arrived. I would have to wait until morning to talk to the Companions.

Paying the stable keeper to house my faithful traveling partner, I went to the Bannered Mare for a room. The woman behind the counter, named Ysolda, accepted my coin. I was also ordering dinner when I heard a familiar voice.

"I was right. We do meet again!"

I turned and smiled as Babette hopped into the seat next to me.

"I thought you would have left by now," I thought aloud. She smiled.

"Nazir threw out his back," Babette explained. "So we're staying another night so that he can get some more rest in a proper bed."

"Are you renting here?" I asked. She shook her head.

"We're staying in Breezehome," she told me.

"Then why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same. Thought you were joining the Companions."

"I just got here," I admitted, accepting my plate from Ysolda. "I'm going to speak with them tomorrow. I'm sure most are drunk or sleeping by now." Babette giggled. "Do you want some dinner? I have extra coin."

"I already ate," she told me. Babette looked at Ysolda fondly. "I have to say Ysolda, you run the inn as nicely as Hulda did. Lots of changes since I was here last month, and I must admit, all of them were great. I'm especially glad you got rid of Mikael."

"He was too disrespectful towards my female partons," Ysolda told her, giving a small sigh. "Sad though, he was a decent bard."

"Who took his place?" Babette wondered.

"Her name's Parwen," Ysolda replied, wiping off her counter with a smile. "Fresh from the Bard College. Beautiful voice. A true gift from the Divines."

As in on cue, I heard somebody strum a lute. I glanced towards the fire, where a woman was performing said action. She was...breathtaking. A Bosmer, with light brown skin and dark blonde hair tucked behind pointed eager. Light brown eyes were staring out at her audience, sparkling with eagerness. Dressed in a deep green dress that was designed in traditional Nord style, her spirit seemed to light up the room.

Then she began to sing the Song of the Dragonborn. A popular song. I had always been curious about what a dragonborn was. I had asked Neesha, but she claimed to not know, and I got a headsmack and a scolding from Brelda, who told me to not ask such stupid questions. I asked the bard in Markarth, who explained that the dragonborn was a person with the soul of a dragon, that could produce a Thu'um. Further investigation led me to learn that the Thu'um was a special shout. I briefly wondered if that's what my special screaming was, a Thu'um. I shook it off though. It was such a silly idea. Me, a dragonborn.

"Looking for her Amulet of Mara?" Babette teased. I suddenly realized that I was staring at the female bard and shook my head.

"Just thinking," I told her, finally taking a bite of my food. I was a little surprised that Babette, a little girl, seemed to have my maturity level. Neesha did say that girls became mature faster than boys, but I didn't think it was this fast.

"Sure," Babette giggled. "Well, I should head back to Nazir. Make sure he didn't break a hip. You have fun staring at the bard from afar. Hopefully, Nazir and I will see you on our way back."

Babette slipped off the stood and began to walk away.

"Hey," I called after her. "Stay safe. The roads are dangerous for a little girl and a man advanced in years."

"We'll be fine, Companion," she said, flashing a grin. Something was...off...about her smile. She then turned on her heel and exited the inn. I shook my head and took a gulp of mead. She was an odd girl.

* * *

I woke up with a slight headache. I believe I drank a bit too much mead.

After getting dressed, I thanked Ysolda, grabbing a loaf of bread as breakfast before heading up to the home of the Companions. Upon opening the door, I saw a brawl between two members. Slipping off to the side, I saw an elderly woman putting some food on the table.

"May I speak to the leader of the Companions?" I asked her. She blinked at me before giving me a warm smile.

"Kodlak is in his room. Turn right, last room at the very end of the hall," she said, pointing me in the right direction. I thanked her and went down some stairs and through a door. Making my way down the end of the hallway, I noticed the door open and three men sitting inside. Two were sitting in chairs next to a small round table, a third sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Come on in, lad," the eldest said, motioning for me to come inside. "How can I help you?"

"I would like to join the Companions," I told him confidently, standing a bit straighter to appear taller. He looked at me thoughtfully.

"You look...familiar...," he murmured, but then waved his hand as if to wave away the thought. "Nevermind me. I'm old. So you'd like to join the Companions then, lad?"

"Kodlak, don't tell me you're thinking about accepting this young, scrawny boy," the man sitting in the other chair scoffed. "He doesn't even look like he's old enough to grow a beard." I turned a bit red, scratching at my chin. So what if I couldn't really grow one? I looked good without a beard. And scrawny? I'm not scrawny.

"Now, Vilkas, he seems like a strong, willing lad," Kodlak scolded him lightly. Vilkas nodded at him. The kid on the floor looked a lot younger than I did, barely a teenager. Was he part of the Companions?

"But...I've never even heard of him," Vilkas protested.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Others come to us to seek their fame," Kodlak reminded him.

"I come not to seek fame," I spoke up. "I came to help those in need and grow stronger."

"A noble cause," Kodlak smiled. "Vilkas, why don't you see if this lad is really as scrawny as you think he is. Go test his arm."

Vilkas nodded and stood.

"Come with me," he grumbled towards me. I followed him to the courtyard. The training dummies...

It all looked and felt so familiar.

"Let's see what you got," Vilkas called out to me. I turned to his attention as he put up his shield. "Don't worry. I can take it. Just do your best."

I pulled out my Skyforge steel. The sight of my dagger made Vilkas roll his eyes until I laid hard blow after hard blow on his shield, causing him to stumble backwards.

"That's good!" he suddenly yelled. I stopped attacked and he put down his shield. "Not bad for a scrawny little thing. But you're still just a whelp to us." I rolled my eyes. "Take my sword up to be sharpened, whelp."

He dropped his sword in my arms. I scowled slightly. I was going to end up being a little errand boy. I glanced up at the Skyforge.

Skyforge steel...maybe the guy there can tell me a thing or two about how I got my dagger.

I went up to see a man not much older than I working the forge. I walked up to him, clutching the weapon in my hand.

"Uh, Vilkas sent me with this," I said, grabbing the man's attention. He grinned and accepted it, wiping some sweat from his forehead. He had almost white-blonde hair and a young body. He couldn't have been working the forge when I got this dagger. I had this dagger since I was at least in my seventh year.

"The whelp?" he guessed, putting it off to the side. I nodded.

"Um...I doubt you could...but could you tell me anything about this dagger? It's Skyforge steel...and I kind of remember getting it but nothing else about it," I asked, taking out my weapon. The man set his hammer down and glanced over, shaking his head.

"Nah. That's the old man's work," he responded.

"Old man?" I echoed.

"Eorlund's work," he explained. "My grandfather. He passed two summers ago. I work this beautiful forge now. My work is not as good as his was, but I'd like to say it's pretty damn close. Hopefully in a few more years, I'll be just as good, if not better."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said quietly, sheathing the dagger.

"Sorry I can't tell you much else bout your dagger," he responded.

I nodded , still disappointed at the lack of information. The man pulled a glove off with his teeth and extended it to me. I awkwardly accepted it.

"I'm Erik," he told me, shaking my hand.

"Mathies," I responded.

"Welcome to the Companions," Erik told me. He hit me light in the best with the back of his hand. "Hey, don't become a servant to the other Companions. They were whelps once too, even if they don't like to mention it."

I smiled slightly and nodded.

"I won't," I promised as he picked up a shield.

"Will you take this to Aela for me?" he asked. "I have lots of steel to work magic on, and I do have a wife at home that requires my attention."

"Didn't you just tell me to not be a servant?" I wondered. He gave a small chuckle.

"I said don't become a servant to the other Companions," he pointed out. "I'm not a Companion. I just make and repair the equipment."

"Good point," I smirked, accepting the shield. Erik waved me away, grinning and rolling his eyes. I laughed as I walked the path back to Jorrvaskr.

I opened the doors of Jorrvaskr and strolled inside. Wait, who was Aela?

I glanced around. Obviously it was a woman, but which one? I wandered to the elderly woman who had set the table earlier. She was now sweeping the floor.

"The newest Companion?" she asked me. I nodded. "Welcome sweetheart. I'm Tilma, been taking care of Jorrvaskr for as long as I can remember." I smiled.

"Where's Aela?" I asked. Tilma nodded towards a redheaded woman talking to Vilkas. Vilkas didn't look the same as he did moments ago. Did he change? I thanked Tilma before walking up to her. "Aela?"

"Yes, whelp?" she asked, barely sparing a glance.

"I have your shield?"

Aela glanced at me before accepting it.

"Ah, thank you," she told me as she examined it. "Erik is no Eorlund, but he's still a wonderful blacksmith."

"I heard you gave my brother quite a fight outside," Vilkas told me. I gave him a weird look. He laughed. "I'm Farkas. Vilkas is my brother. We're twins."

I nodded, suddenly understanding.

"Do you think you can take Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked. I shrugged.

"I don't care to boast," I said honestly.

"A man who, for once, allows his actions to speak for him," she said with a smile. "I like that. Farkas, show this pup where the rest of the whelps sleep."

Farkas nodded and motioned for me to follow him, which I did.

"You look familiar," Farkas suddenly spoke up as we entered the Jorrvaskr Living Quarters.

"Can you believe how many times I've been hearing that since I left Markarth?" I replied. Farkas chuckled.

"You must have one of those faces that always reminds somebody of somebody else," Farkas suggested. "Either way, I'm probably wrong. Skjor says I've got the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts."

"I'm an only child," I confessed. Farkas nodded as he opened another door to reveal various beds.

"This is where you'll rest your head. But it's not even noon, so I'm sure you'd like some work?" I nodded, and Farkas smiled. "Good. You can travel to Ivarstead. The man who normally brings the Greybeard's supplies is too ill to make the trip, and nobody else in the village is willing to do it. It's a long time, but the task is pretty simple, even for a whelp. I'm sure you can do it."

"I can do it with no problems," I informed him.

"That's good to hear. Now move along. Supplies don't deliver themselves."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.

* * *

"It is not just my illness," Klimmek admitted when I accepted the supplies from his wife. "I am old, lad. These knees can not climb stairs like they used to."

"The Companions are willing to to carry the supplies up until somebody here is up to the task," I responded. He gave a smile. "Now you rest, sir. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Divines bless you," he half-wheezed, coughing some. His wife immediately came to his aid, handing a tankard of water to him, which he accepted.

I shifted the supply back on my shoulders and looked up at the 7,000 steps. It would certainly be a long journey.

* * *

I panted heavily as I delivered the final blow. The frost troll collapsed on it side and with a final groan, died. I fell to my knees as well, clutching my arm. Every little movement it made caused serious pain. My side gave a good gash that was oozing crimson blood. Blinking back tears, I looked up. It could be that much further to the Greybeards. Surely I could make it to the top. I was probably closer to them than Ivarstead. Might as well continue the trip.

Legs wobbly, I pushed myself to a standing position, using my good arm to pick up the supply bag before heading up the mountain. It was a lot long than I thought. By the time I finally saw High Hrothgar, I was about to pass out. I struggled to open the chest and throw the supply bag in. The lid shut, I slumped to sit with my back against the chest. My eyes drooped, feeling exhausted. My pained arm was resting on the open gash.

I heard some footsteps, following by words that made the earth tremble some.

"Little Dovahkiin."

* * *

I woke up slowly, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. My arm and side felt a lot better, even though I had no idea where I was or the reason behind the lack of pain.

My body felt too lazy to move, so I laid there until I heard footsteps approach me.

"Little Dovahkiin," a voice acknowledged me. I used all my remaining strength to sit up. It definitely wasn't who found me. This greeting didn't shake the earth. Or was that just part of my imagination? A man looked up and down at me. "Well...it may not be fair to call you...little anymore."

"What's Dovahkiin?" I asked. The term felt familiar, the nickname something I knew I should remember. But I didn't.

"Means Dragonborn, little Dovahkiin," the man responded gently. He then gave me an odd look. "Do you not remember me?"

"I don't remember much before my seventh year," I admitted. He nodded.

"You were in your fourth year when your mother brought you here," he told me. "The most adorable Dovahkiin any of us had ever seen."

I shook my head.

"Can't be. My mother died when I was a babe, and I spent all my life in up until recently," I responded. He tilted his head in curiosity.

"Now I know that's not true, Lucien. Your mother was very alive and healthy when she brought you here. She still comes here on occasion seeking more words of power and training in the way of the Voice. In fact, she was here shortly under two years ago."

"My name is Mathies," I said. I gave a small smile. "I think you're mistaking me for somebody else. Farkas said I have one of those faces that always reminds somebody of somebody else."

He shook his head firmly.

"Others may believe so, but you must know, little Dovahkiin, that very few make the full climb to the 7,000 steps. And even fewer come and stand before us. I have never forgotten a single face since I came here to master the Voice," he told me. I slipped off the bed I was in.

"Thank you for taking care of my injuries," I began. "But I must be going."

"Where are you headed?" he inquired.

"I'm part of the Companions now," I told him. He smiled brightly and nodded.

"Such honorable men," he murmured. "Take care, little Dovahkiin."

"Why do you call me that?" I asked, putting my armor on. "Little Dovahkiin?"

"When you first came here, you showed us the power of the Thu'um in a way only a Dovahkiin can," he said. I gave a small smile.

"I'm not a Dragonborn," I insisted. He just rose an eyebrow.

"If you insist," he said softly. He showed me the way out, and I made my way back down.

* * *

Two years passed and it was nearing my twentieth year. I went through my trial and was sworn to be a Companion. Henrik quickly became my best friend. He was a tad slow, like his father Farkas, but he was strong and a great partner to accompany me on Companion jobs. We both had been invited to become part of the Circle, although Henrik agreed and I declined. I knew that I had to leave upon my twentieth year, so I did not see any point in establishing a high rank within the Companions.

I settled into the habit of doing my Companion work by day with Henrik and when I was able to, spending my nights at the Bannered Mare to eat my supper and listen to Parwen's music. I never really paid at the Bannered Mare, especially when Henrik was with me. His mom owned the Bannered Mare, so we ate for free. When I came alone, his mom would smile and tell me that it was on the house on occasion of my hard work as a Companion. As for Parwen, we had become closer, though we never established any romance. Enough of a relationship to call her a good friend. Henrik teased me constantly over her, and in return I would tease him for how sweet he was on the mercenary for hire in the Drunken Huntsman, the Dunmer woman.

My hair grew, and I cut it so that the world could see the copper instead of blond. It looked a bit weird at first, but then as it grew more, it settled into a more normal look.

"Are you going to finish that?" Henrik asked me, eying the forgotten apple in my hand. I snorted and tossed it to him. He caught it and hungrily took a bite. My large friend was always hungry. "So...you're leaving soon?"

"It seems so," I replied sadly, looking up at the sky as it began to darken for the night. I was lying on the grass next to the courtyard, Henrik sitting in one of the chairs that allowed him to hide from the sun.

During this small relaxation time, I was going over my regrets, such as not returning to the Greybeards for answers. I couldn't believe I didn't ask for more information on what they knew about me, but it just seemed so..._absurd_ that I would be a Dragonborn. A little Dovahkiin. I also regretted some of the just bad decisions I made on the job. Tied with the Greybeards, one of my biggest regrets was not spending more time with Parwen.

"You going to tell her before you go?" Henrik asked. He always seemed to know when my thoughts drifted to her. I had briefly considered it. I was to leave in a week's time.

"No point. I take my leave soon. Why tell her and then leave her behind?" I asked with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Take her with you," he suggested. "She has an Amulet of Mara."

"How do you know?" I asked, a tad suspicious. He chuckled.

"I did not learn from staring at her, if that is your belief," he said with a smile. "I do not chase after my friend's woman. My mother told Father this morning that she gave Parwen her old Amulet of Mara."

I just nodded the best I could from my position.

"Henrik, Mathies," Kodlak's voice called out to us. I sat up to see the man standing by the doors. "I have a job for you."

"Anything Kodlak," Henrik responded.

"I need you to go to Dawnstar and escort the new shipment that's coming in to here in Whiterun," he said. He looked at me. "I understand that this might keep you past your expected leaving date...but I sure if you write to your father and tell him that you wish to complete one last job for the Companions, he will understand."

"I'll send a letter tonight," I promised.

"And you two can leave in the morning," Kodlak told us before he walked back inside.

"Our last job together as Companions," Henrik sighed. "It is sad. We will miss you as one of us."

"I will miss being a Companion," I agreed.

"One last drink at the Bannered Mare?"

"We have to go to Dawnstar tomorrow," I reminded him.

"We won't drink that much," he promised.

"You say that each time, and every morning that followed we are too hungover to do anything," I grinned.

"I mean it this time!" Henrik laughed. He stood from his chair. He extended his hand and all but yanked me off the ground.

* * *

"I'm sad to see you see, Mathies," Ysolda told me sorrowfully as she handed me a bottle of mead. "I do hope you can return."

"I love it here," I confessed, accepting it. "I hope I can return one day as well."

"If you ever do return, the Companions will always be glad to have you back," Henrik hiccuped.

"Jenassa is here," I said, motioning to the woman who had just entered. Henrik immediately stood and walked over to her. She had to be many years older than him, but he remained sweet on her. Somebody took Henrik's seat.

Speaking of people to be sweet on.

Parwen smiled at me, tucking some hair behind an ear.

"I hear you're going to Windhelm next week," she spoke up.

"I might leave later," I explained. "Henrik and I are doing one last job together, escorting a shipment to here."

"We will all miss you here," she said softly. I glanced down and saw the Amulet of Mara Henrik had mentioned around her neck.

"Perhaps you could come with me," I suggested. I barely realized I said that until I saw the look of interest on her face.

"Is there an Inn in Windhelm?" she asked.

"There is," I responded.

"And do they need a bard?"

"Even if they don't, I'm sure they would hire a second one."

"Then I would love to accompany you," she responded, her smile brightening. "One thing though. Are you interested in me?"

I knew I was flushing red at this point, turning away from her. Thank the Gods Ysolda didn't light too many candles and torches for fear of a fire.

"Yes," I finally replied after a moment's pause. "Are you interested in me?"

"Very much," came the quiet response. I turned my gaze back to her. She was a bright pink herself.

"We could stop in Riften before Windhelm," I suggested.

"That would be lovely," she told me, kissing me briefly before standing. "Now I must work. If I do not see you before you leave tomorrow, then just know I'll be counting the days until your return."

I didn't speak, just smiled dumbly and nodded.

After some more mead, (but not much, since one of us needed a level head in order to travel and it seemed like Henrik was not planning on slowing his drink anytime soon) I went home to write to my father, leaving Henrik in the Bannered Mare as he did everything short of shouting it to get the Dunmer's attention.

_Father,_

_I know my twentieth year approaches, and I will head home. First, I am completing my final job for the Companions, a simple job in which I will help escort a shipment to prevent a bandit raid. Then as I travel to Windhelm, I have made plans to stop in Riften and marry my beloved. I know that you will love your daughter-in-law. I certainly due. When I finish these things, I will arrive as quickly as my horse can take me there.  
_

_Mathies  
_

Paying a courier, he watch them scurry off before laying his head in the Companions bed for the last time.

* * *

"Ha! I knew that you two would end up wedded," Henrik laughed. I moved my horse closer to his so that I could push him. He nearly lost his balance, but steadied himself.

"We're almost to Dawnstar," I said, changing the subject. Henrik just grinned, shaking his head.

When we reached our destination, we were told that the shipment came in early the next morning. We made ourselves comfortable in the Windpeak Inn. It was then that it happened.

"_Lucien. I have waited so long for you to be close enough to hear my voice._"

I immediately looked around for the voice's source, but found nobody. That name again: Lucien. What the Greybeard insisted my name was. It was weird...oddly weird...being called that.

_"Lucien, my son. Your father prays at my coffin nightly for the return of his children, and your mother still searches for you and your sister."_

I shrieked in fright, my sweetroll flying in the air. Henrik caught it and took a bite out of it.

"You alright?" he asked, examining me up and down.

"I...I just thought I heard something," I said gave me a weird look, but questioned no further.

_"My Listener is gone, Lucien. Something has happened to her. First, go to Riften, my child. In Honorhall Orphanage, there is a little girl that goes by Karita. She is your sister. Bring my child home to me, at the Dawnstar Sanctuary."_

I didn't flip out at the voice this time, just had an odd expression that Henrick once again questioned. I shrugged it off, and he eventually forgot.

* * *

Parwen was waiting for me at Jorvaskrr. I responded warmly to her embrace and kiss before we packed our things. After a final goodbye from my Companion family and Bannered Mare friends, Parwen and I hired a carriage to Riften. We were married in the small Temple of Mara by an overemotional priest. I then took my new wife to our room in the Bee and Barb, and well, I'm sure you know.

The next morning, Parwen busied herself in the market to buy supplies to last us to Windhelm. This was when I went to check out the orphanage. I knew that even if the voice was wrong, I could always just donate some money.

It was quite clean. I walked in, nearly trampled by three boys that were running around before I saw a woman going over some books with a man.

"May I help you?" the woman asked.

"My sister is here," I found myself saying. "Her name is Karita."

"What proof you have of your kinship to her?" the man wondered suspiciously.

"Calm yourself, Lars. This man looks exactly like our little Karita," the woman scolded him lightly as she stood. "I'm positive he is her kin."

"Pardon me, Constance, but I just want to be assured that our children wouldn't be given away to just anybody," Lars apologized. Constance patted his back lovingly, showing that his apology was accepted before calling for Karita.

I felt like I was looking at myself when I was her age, if Neesha had allowed my hair to stay copper. She seemed on the brink of teenhood, copper hair just a bit longer than mine. Same nose, lips, cheeks, eyes, same everything. Everything I saw on her was the exact same features I found in a mirror image of myself.

"By the Gods, you two are a mirror image of each other," Lars marveled, staring at the two of us. Constance agreed, but Karita stayed quiet.

After some more conversation, I took Karita's hand and led her to the carriage, where I promised Parwen I would meet her. My wife was, very understandingly, shocked that I had a little girl with me.

"She's my little sister," I explained to her. She took one more look at me before accepting my answer. She almost had no choice. We looked too much alike to deny it. I helped Parwen into the carriage before lifting Karita up into it. I climbed in between them and we headed to Windhelm. Parwen leaned against me, and Karita snuggled into my side.

"Thank you for taking me out of Honorhall," she murmured.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.

* * *

"So where are we headed?" Karita asked me, her legs swinging.

"Windhelm to live closer to your father," Parwen responded. Karita began to tear up.

"I was just there," she whimpered, burying her head in my side. "He sent me to Honorhall!"

I looked at Parwen, who stared back at me dumbfounded. Pulling her head out of my side, I asked her to better explain what she meant.

"Father had me come to him from my home in Falkreath upon my thirteenth year," she explained. "When I got there, he asked me if I could shout. I shouted, but it wasn't the shouting he liked. He took me to this hidden room behind his throne where he kept this...you'll never believe me but he kept this small dragon there. He had his men killed it, and he got furious because I didn't...absorb the dragon's soul or whatever. He started shouting at this man in his court saying that I didn't have the power of the...thu'um, he called it? Anyway, he claimed the man played tricks on him, though the man said that he didn't because I looked just like the jester. No clue what he meant by that. Father said that I was no daughter of his and sent me to Honorhall."

Parwen looked at me in amazement, and I just carried a blank expression, unsure of what to make of her story.

"You will not have to worry anymore," Parwen finally spoke. "You live with Mathies and I now, we'll take care of you until the day comes when you take your leave."

Karita smiled brightly at her.

"I have plenty of coin from my work with the Companions," I said slowly. "I can surely buy a nice home for you and Karita to live in."

Parwen leaned into me, and I wrapped an arm around her waist.

"You are lucky," she told Karita. "Your brother is a very honorable man. I suppose I'm lucky too to have him as a husband."

"How did you know I was in Honorhall?" Karita asked me.

"Yes, how did you know?" Parwen chipped in. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I just...knew," I said slowly. My family gave me a weird look, but didn't question me further.

Upon reaching Windhelm, I gave Karita some coin and left her to play while I went to talk to my farther with Parwen. If her story was true, then I was sure that Ulfric would kick her out of the hold. While I was there, I'm sure that Parwen and I could buy a nice home for the three of us to live in.

I linked my arm with Parwen's, and we walked in behind Karita. I saw her shriek in childish delight as she ran like mad.

"This place looks awfully depressing," Parwen whispered in my ear. I just nodded. She shivered and huddled closer to me. "And cold."

"A cold, dreary place," I murmured, glancing around. I spied a drunken man yelling racial slurs at a Dunmer woman, who was scowled and walked away quickly. In response, he threw his bottle towards her, just barely missing her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Parwen pull her hood over her head. Even though it was cold, I knew she wanted to hide that she was a Bosmer from him and the other potential elf-haters that he may have with him. I pulled her closer, silently assuring her that I would protect her as we walked up to the Palace of the Kings.

Opening the door, I saw my father for the first time. He was sitting in his throne, leaned and relaxed with his head propped up by a hand as he listened to a man ramble next to him. Upon seeing me, he stood up straighter. As I approached, Parwen by my side, he stood and walked a few steps to greet me.

"You've grown much since I last saw you," he greeted brightly. His hair was the same color of blond that Neesha used to force-dye it with the potions. My father's hair, however, was growing grey with age. "I'm glad to know that Neesha did not jest when she mentioned you growing so tall and strong. I am correct to assume that the Companions helped you grow in not just strength, but honor."

I nodded.

"They helped me improve my abilities with the sword, and through them I became very honorable," I replied. He nodded in approval, suddenly shifting his gaze to Parwen.

"Is this the beloved you mentioned in your letter?" he asked.

"Yes," I told him. "This is Parwen. She was a bard."

Parwen shyly let her hood fall. My father's eager, excited expression turned dark as he started at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Please tell me you jest when you say that you married a thieving little elf harlot."

I saw Parwen's eyes grow wide, and my jaw dropped in complete shock. By the Gods, please tell me I misheard that. The look on my father's face said that he meant every single word he said, the words I was hoping I misheard were words he clearly meant. Loud and clear.

"I do not jest," was all I could manage to say in my complete surprise. He scowled at me.

"You need to return to Riften immediately and request a divorce," he ordered. I began to see red. I do not believe I had ever been so furious in my life. Imaged of stabbing him with my Skyforge steel flashed through my head.

"No," I said firmly. He gave me a look telling me that this wasn't an option, but I did not back down. "I love Parwen, and she loves me. She is not a thief, nor is she a harlot. We were wed with Mara's blessing, and I will continue being bound to her, now and forever as I promised her not two days ago."

Parwen looked relieved that I stood up for her, and my father seemed internally conflicted on what to do. I briefly wondered if he would be as extreme to kill Parwen.

"Fine," he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. "You can keep your marriage to the elf harlot. But both of you have to live in the Grey Corner."

"No problem," I replied hotly.

He scowled again before waving over somebody who set up the arrangements for our new home in the Grey Corner.

* * *

"This place is small," Karita complained. I shrugged my shoulders. When I lived with the Companions, I slept in the combined sleeping quarters. When Henrik got his own room after he became part of the Circle, he let me share his room for the sleeping quarters by that time had become crowded. The small, two roomed house seemed huge to me.

"Small, but nice and cozy," Parwen smiled, handing her her sleeping furs. The girl accepted it and placed it on her bed.

It was cozy. A kitchen area combined with a family and dining room, a small bed pushed against the wall in the corner for Karita. The small house had an upstairs with a bedroom, which was for Parwen and I.

"Honorhall is about this size," I reminded Karita. "And they had many children living there. Here, it's just Parwen, you and I."

"True, she admitted. "May I go out and play?"

"Sure," I said, waving at the door, encouraging her to go. She squealed and ran outside. I closed the door behind her.

"Thanks for sticking up for me earlier," Parwen told me as she put the last few of our things away. I came up behind her, hugging her tightly.

"Of course I did," I replied, kissing her cheek. "I love you. I would not let anybody, not even my dad, talk horribly of you. He does not even know you."

She beamed and turned in my arms to kiss me.

"You're a good man," she murmured, holding me close and kissing me again.

Before we could go further, a knock distracted us. I pulled away to go see who it was. A courier smiled at me and handed me three letters. I nodded and gave him a coin tip before shutting the door.

"Who was it?" Parwen asked.

"Courier," I replied, waving the letters.

"From who?" she inquired.

The first one was from the Companions (and Ysolda), wondering if we arrived safely and wishing us many years of good marriage. The second was an invite to visit a new museum in Dawnstar, and the last was a written request from my father for me to join him for dinner tonight. He did not waste ink telling me to keep my "thieving elf harlot" at home, that I was to come alone.

Parwen read them too. She was happy to hear from our old friends, also quite interested in visiting said museum. With the last letter, she crumbled it up and tossed it into the fire.

"I do not plan on going," I told her, kissing her forehead. "I much rather stay here with my lovely wife and little sister than listen to my father make racial slurs all night."

She gave a weak smile.

"You should go," she encouraged. "You have not seen your father in years. Karita and I can have a nice night here."

"No," I refused. "My father will have to get over it. You are my wife, you're staying, he needs to get used to the idea."

Parwen sighed heavily, but I saw her smile. I pushed some hair behind her ear and kissed her.

"Now where were we?" she asked suggestively, wrapping her arms around my neck. I grinned and picked her up bridal style, making her giggle.

* * *

My father gave an angry growl when he saw me walk in, my arm linked with Parwen's.

"I thought I made it clear in my letter to keep your-"

"I understood your letter," I said, cutting him off before he could insult her again. "But I do not care what you believe. Parwen is my wife, she is staying, you need to get over it and learn to love your daughter-in-law."

He gave me a look that could kill before he spoke, his voice shaking in an attempt to not snap, inviting me and my elf to sit. At least he didn't call her a thief or harlot.

Dinner was full of fake laughs and heavy tensions at first. One wrong word and somebody was going to explode or snap, destroying us all. But thankful, as more mead was served, the looser and more relaxed people became. I decided to control my mead, as did Parwen. I suspect she was more fearful that if she didn't control her mead, that one of them would kill her in a random drunken rage.

Among the servants, I saw Neesha and Brelda. I had greeted the Redguard with much love, faking love for the Dunmer that annoyed me my entire childhood. I wondered if they immediately came to Windhelm after I left for Whiterun, but I didn't bother asking.

I glanced over at my father's throne. Karita had mentioned a secret door that was there that led them to a dragon he slayed. Her story sounded bizarre. Would it be weird if I...actually checked?

Leaning into Parwen, I asked her in a whisper if we should check it out. She nodded, muttering that when the drunks all left for home, that she would join me if I wanted to check.

It didn't take long for them to finish eating and conversation. Most had quickly become very drunk. One by one, they stumbled out the front door or to the stairs. Soon, my father, a man I did not know and Father's right hand man was left. I needed to distract them, so I excused myself to get more mead. Parwen stared after me in slight fear, but I gave her a reassuring look.

"Neesha, can you distract my father?" I asked her.

"Why?" she questioned, handing me more mead. I admitted to her the truth, that I wanted to check for a secret room. My old nursemaid stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, agreeing. I could just feel Brelda glaring at me, but I shrugged it away. "Wuunferth asked me to sent the Jarl to him to speak to him on a matter over an hour ago anyway."

I returned to find Parwen safe, and my father and his right hand man laughing hysterically over a drunken joke. The man I did not know was passed out on top of the table, snoring loudly. I sat next to my wife, seeing her immediate joy in my return.

"My Jarl?" Neesha spoke up. He looked to her. "Your Court Wizard wishes to speak to you."

Both my father and the right hand man stood and went up the stairs. Parwen and I immediately stood when they left. I rushed to the throne and put my hands on the wall next to it.

Parwen and I searched a good five minutes before Parwen finally found the entrance, hidden beneath one of the huge curtains near the throne. I managed to open it, and inside was a small room.

True to her word, a dragon lay on the ground in a small pool of blood. It had dark scales, no signs of it breathing. Eyes closed, stab and burn wounds everywhere, it was definitely dead. I heard Parwen choke up some as she touched one of the scales. My Bosmer was a sucker for animals, no matter how large and deadly. Following her example, I touched one of the scales.

I jerked back with a yelp when my hand starting glowing yellow. Soon, my entire body was glowing yellow, as was the dragon's. The more it's glow died, the stronger mine became.

A few moments later, the glow died down. I stared at Parwen, unsure of what to make of it. She looked just as confused as I did.

"So you are Dragonborn?" I wanted to scream at the very sound of the dreadful woman's voice. "Ulfric wasn't lying."

"What do you want, Brelda?" I growled.

"You never learned your manners, ungrateful brat," she hissed back. "Look, Ulfric will kill me for telling you, but you need to know. You're a child of Sithis, some form of dark spirit present in you."

"You spoke this of me since I was little. And yes, I heard you. Do not deny it," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"It is true," she replied hotly. "I mean not because you were a naughty child, but because of your family."

"You mean Ulfric?" Parwen spoke up curiously.

"No, your real family. Speak not a word of this to Ulfric for he will kill me. It is the least you owe me," she said. I remained quiet. "As a child, you showed the power of the Thu'um, something you inherited from your mother, the Dragonborn. Ulfric knew this and wanted you so that he could train you and use you to his own use. Around the time he learned this, your mother birthed your little sister. He failed twice to get you two. When he finally got his greedy, Nord hands on you two, your parents already knew who was behind the attacks. So he separated you two and sent us to Markarth, and your sister to Winterhold in hopes that your parents would eventually give up hope. Your sister was here earlier, but could not perform the Thu'um. So Ulfric became furious and threw her out."

"I was in my sixth year, but how come I remember nothing before my seventh?" I wanted to know.

"You became critically ill on the journey to Markarth," she explained. "It must have been severe enough to erase your memories. You were in bed for months, asleep and with no response."

"Why are you even telling me this?" I blurted out.

"Surprised that I'm actually helping you?" she asked, dripping with sarcasm. "Truth is, I hate Ulfric. Always have. He's a racist bastard, and I'm done with this little charade after what he did to your sister. You do not just throw a child out because she can not do as you please."

"I found her," I found myself telling her. "She's at my home." Brelda gave me a smile I rarely saw from her.

"Good. Take good care of her. And accept my advice. Leave Windhelm. Go back to Whiterun with the Companions, go find your birth parents, do what you will. Just never associate your name with Ulfric Stormcloak again."

I nodded, head spinning with all this new information. Parwen grabbed my arm and we left the room, and the Palace of the Kings.

* * *

"You're back!" Karita was cheerfully there to greet us. I gave her a small smile before sitting in one of the chairs, trying to process and organize my thoughts.

"Sweetheart?" Parwen said after a few moments. "What do you make of what the Dunmer said?"

"I don't know," I admitted, putting my hands on my face, blocking out all the light that suddenly irked me. "But...I do not want to stay here longer. Ulfric is racist, he's cruel and...even if Brelda was lying, I never want to call him Father."

My wife smiled apologetically, giving me a kiss.

"I could have told you that," Karita spoke up. I chuckled at her.

"What do you wish to do?" Parwen asked me, sitting in the other chair. I took a few moments to think.

"I definitely want to leave," I decided.

"I do too," Parwen said quietly. "Ulfric is not the only racist one here. I believe I will fear my life often if we stay."

The words I heard in Dawnstar echoed in my head.

_"Lucien, my son. Your father prays at my coffin nightly for the return of his children, and your mother still searches for you and your sister. My Listener is gone, Lucien. Something has happened to her. First, go to Riften, my child. In Honorhall Orphanage, there is a little girl that goes by Karita. She is your sister. Bring my child home to me, at the Dawnstar Sanctuary."_

Was this woman talking about my birth parents? And Lucien...could that be my real name? Mathies always did sound too...Nordy...for my tastes. Who was the woman who spoke this to me? She was right about Karita...maybe I should obey what she had to say...

"But where will we go?" Karita asked aloud.

"Dawnstar," I immediately replied. Parwen gave me a curious look, but didn't question me. Karita simply inquired if Dawnstar was as cold as Winterhold was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.**

**This is shorter than the rest, but I wanted a cliffhanger.**

* * *

We decided to just leave our big items behind and just carry basics with us. A carriage ride later, we found ourselves in Whiterun. Parwen had requested visiting before Dawnstar, and I happily agreed to go visit my Companion friends.

Ysolda happily agreed for Parwen and Karita to stay with her and Farkas in their home. I took up Henrik's offer to bunk with him in his room in Jorvaskrr, like old times. It was only for a week, and I would get a lifetime of being able to sleep next to my wife once we got to Dawnstar, so neither one of us minded.

One evening while we were there, Parwen and I were in the Companions hall. It was late into the day, the sun having set nearly an hour ago. Then Karita and a familiar face made their way into Jorvaskrr.

"Hey Babette," I greeted. Babette's eyes grew wide with surprise at me before she smiled and waved.

"Mathies!" Karita squealed. "Babette said that her and Nazir are going to Dawnstar too! They don't leave till Mondas, can we please, please, please travel with them? I like Babette! She's super nice!"

I glanced at the little girl and shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't mind staying an extra few days, unless Parwen has a problem with it?" I said, glancing at my wife. As I predicted, she beamed at the idea.

"Excellent!" Babette smiled. "I'll tell Nazir. He also says he'd love if if you two would like to join us for dinner."

Parwen and I agreed. Babette motioned for us to follow her, so we stood and walked arm in arm behind the two young girls, who ran and jumped around as we walked to Breezehome. I opened the door for the three girls before following them inside and shutting the door myself.

This house seemed so...familiar...I felt like I knew the entire house, and I never remembered stepping foot in there until today.

The door locking caught my attention, and I saw Babette pocket the key before immediately shifting my gaze to the cooking pot in the middle of the room. Nazir was standing, looking at me with large, shocked eyes as he shook his head.

"By Sithis," he muttered. "Babette, my friend, you were right and I apologize."

"I told you he had the fool's grin!" Babette argued.

I stared at the two in confusion.

"Well?" Nazir asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you remember us?"

"I remember you from the road," I admitted. "Nothing else...but..."

"But," Babette repeated, voice urging me to go on.

"I don't remember anything before my seventh year," I admitted.

"Nothing?" Nazir asked.

"Nothing," I confirmed. Babette looked at Nazir, who nodded. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

"You look exactly like our Keeper," she began. "He and our Listener had a son. The Listener had twins, a boy and a girl, before Ulfric Stormcloak broke into this very home and took her son and daughter, who would be around your ages today. Nazir thinks you're them, but I know you are. You look too much like our Keeper, a mirror image of him. And you, Karita, you look like a female version of Vicente, who is one of the twins. I believe Ulfric never knew Listener had twins and just let him be."

"Keeper?" I repeated. "Listener? You mean..."

"Dark Brotherhood, yes," Nazir confirmed before I could even ask.

"It would explain why Brelda always called me a child of Sithis," I murmured, sitting in a nearby chair. Parwen put her hands on my shoulders comfortingly. I stared at Babette questioningly. "But you're..."

"A vampire," she explained, flashing a grin. That was why her smile was off to me. "I'm over 300 years old."

"What's my real name?" I asked the two.

"Lucien was Listener's eldest. Amaya was the female twin," Babette replied.

"Are you alright?" Parwen asked me softly. I nodded.

"It's just...do you know why I knew were Karita was?" I mainly thought aloud. Everybody waited for an answer. "On my last job for the Companions, I had to go to Dawnstar. We arrived a day early, so we got settled in the inn. And in the inn...I heard this woman...talking to me. She said my parents had been praying for me, but that I was too far to hear her voice until now. Then she said to go to Riften and get Karita from Honorhall because she's my sister, and then to return to Dawnstar. Honestly, I would have never checked Riften if Parwen and I never stopped to marry on our way to Windhelm."

"You got married?" Babette squealed. Parwen smiled and confirmed my story. "Oh, I just knew you two would end up together. Oh don't give me that look, Nazir. While you were here sleeping all the time, I got to see these two make love eyes at each other for months upon months."

"We married," I repeated. "And...I'm still not sure who was talking...or why."

"Nazir, do you believe it's crazy to think that maybe the Night Mother talked to Lucien because the Listener is gone?" Babette asked the Redguard. He shrugged.

"I'm too old to follow all this," he grumbled as he finished stirring the pot.

"The Keeper would know for certain if you are Lucien and Amaya," Babette told us. "He'd know his children anywhere."

"Do we have any siblings besides Vicente?" Karita finally spoke up.

"You have another little brother and sister," Babette said a smile. "Garnag and Alisanne."

Nazir scowled.

"The Listener promised that she would have no more after Vicente and Amaya," he grumbled. "Said she hated pregnancy, but ended up having Garnag. And before she could promise to not bear another, she was showing with Alisanne. I bet all the septims in my coin purse that when she comes back, she'll either be showing or carrying another in her arms."

"Don't listen to him," Babette said, waving Nazir off. "He loves kids, but he doesn't want to admit it." Nazir scowled at her again.

"Dig in," he said, tapping his stirring spoon on the side of the cooking pot.

* * *

Babette eased into her coffin before the sun began to rise that Morndas morning, the coffin she had on our first meeting. She admitted that her statement was an obvious lie.

Parwen and Karita sat in the back with the coffin, Karita excitably chatting with Babette through the wood and Parwen napping. I sat next to Nazir in the driver's seat, catching up with lost time. He filled in the blanks of my early years for me, and what had happened when I was discovered missing and the events beyond that up until today. The years I had forgotten slowly came back to me. I now remembered watching my parents marry, my mother rocking me in her arms and sharing my father's laughter. Their images were fuzzy though.

Babette said I looked exactly like my father, so I pictured him kind of like the image I see in the mirror, only older. I was dying to find and meet my mother. Nazir said that a year after Alisanne was born, she just seemed to vanish. No footsteps, no notes, no signs beforehand that she was going to leave, nothing. She just...disappeared. As if erased from existence, and that this deeply crushed my father.

Babette nor Nazir felt like describing my father to me in any words other than a mad jester. They did mention his name was Cicero, and Babette said that he had chest problems because of my kidnappers, but not much else was said. I worried that he was racist as well as my ex-father, Ulfric. Nazir mentioned casually that as long as you respected the Night Mother, Cicero liked you.

When we finally reached Dawnstar, Nazir had the horse put in the stables and Babette was freed from her coffin before the carriage was stored behind the stable. Parwen, Karita and I followed Nazir and Babette out past Dawnstar. It was a short walk to a large black door.

"What...is life's...greatest...illusion?" a dark voice from the door asked.

"Innocence, my brother," Babette replied.

"Welcome...home..."

The door opened, and we went inside to protect ourselves from the hard snowy weather.

"Keeper!" Nazir barked as we walked down the first set of stairs.

"He's in his room," a boy replied from his position in front of the Night Mother. I looked closely at him as he put fresh flowers at the corpse's feet. He looked exactly like Karita, if Karita was a boy. He eyed us cautiously. "Who are they?"

"I'll tell you when we get Cicero. Go find Gnarg and Alisanne," Nazir ordered. The boy nodded as he stood, rushing out the room to find his little brother and sister. "Cicero! We have something for you!"

"You best not be jesting with poor Cicero!" a voice shrieked back at him. Did he really just refer to himself in the third person? I glanced at Parwen, who was staring off emotionless. Karita was staying close to Babette.

"We're not jesting, fool!" he scowled. "Just come here."

Parwen slipped her hand into mine and squeezed as we waited for Cicero to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I only own a copy of Skyrim.**

* * *

A man slowly pulled himself into the room, pausing when he saw me. I held my breath. As I had been told, a mirror image, only his hair had some silver streaks and some other obvious signs of age. Clad in dark red and black armor-Dark Brotherhood armor-, he stood in the doorway. He suddenly burst into giggles, throwing me off guard.

"Poor Cicero is seeing things," he laughed.

"You're not seeing things, fool," Babette told him. Nazir put his hand on my back and pushed me towards Cicero.

I stumbled over my feet some as I regained my balance. Cicero looked down at me, examining me closely. I stared back, unsure of what to say or do. Should I greet him? If so, should I address him as Dad or Cicero? Should I just hug him or shake his hand?

As I stared, lost in my thoughts, Cicero had pulled out my Skyforge steel and was looking it over. I didn't even register that until he began to talk to himself.

"Cicero remembers this," he was murmuring. "Listener and Cicero went to Whiterun for Lucien's first Skyforge steel so that he could learn how to defend himself. When he came home from Jorrvaskr, he showed Cicero how the Jorrvaskr Harbinger helped him engrave what the family always told each other. Kill well and often."

He ran a finger over the engraving before handing it back to me. I hesitantly accepted it before sheathing it. The second it was sheathed, I suddenly couldn't breath or move. I was trapped in Cicero's arms as he hugged me with a death-grip, lifting me off the group. I squirmed some. I had been trapped in both Farkas and Henrik's hugs of death before, but Cicero was much stronger than the Companions (which I found odd since he looked a lot weaker and older) and didn't look like he would release me until Babette reminded Cicero that I needed air.

I gulped air as he began to squeal that he waited longer to find me than he did the Listener, how I looked just like him when he was in his early twenties, that I was much bigger than he thought I'd be and how he never stopped praying to Mother for my return.

By this time, Vicente was joined by my other brother and sister. Garnag looked just like the rest of the us, but my youngest sister had long black hair and deep green eyes that stared at us innocently with facial features that did not reflect Cicero at all. She must look like my mom.

"And who is this?" Cicero asked, eying Parwen.

"This is my wife, Parwen," I told him, finally able to breath. Apparently he didn't completely crush my lungs like I had initially thought.

"Any children?" he asked us hesitantly. I shook my head no, and he laughed in delight. "Thank Sithis! Cicero is not as old as he was beginning to believe. How did you meet?"

"I was a Companion for about two years," I informed him. "She was a bard in the local inn."

Cicero's eyes danced.

"Cicero loves bards!" he exclaimed. He looked down at Karita before pulling her into a hug of death as well, making her squeak in surprise before giggling and hugging back. He kissed her happily, and she returned it as she held onto him tightly.

"I don't think I've seen Dad this happy since...ever," Vicente admitted. I glanced at him. "Especially since Mom left."

"Where is she?" I asked him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"She just disappeared. About three years ago," he told me. "She said that she was going on contract to Solitude, but she never returned. Dad went there and asked everybody he saw, but nobody even saw her enter the city."

Alisanne peered from behind Vicente at me shyly. I smiled and waved at her, making her blush and run to Cicero. She tugged on his pants leg, making him look down. He chuckled and picked her up.

_"I have not seen my Keeper this happy in years,"_ the voice I heard on my last trip to Dawnstar spoke softly to me. _"Come to me, Lucien."_

I glanced at the Night Mother's coffin. She stood still, as the dead should. I looked back at my family and made a silent promise to return that night when everybody slept.

* * *

The day passed surprisingly quick. Everybody sat together at the dining table and exchanged stories, catching everybody up. My dad-my real dad-was understandably furious with Ulfric. It took Nazir and I, plus Babette's warning on how it would seriously damage his already bad health, to convince him to not flee to Windhelm on Shadowmere.

When everybody had retired to a bed, I found myself wide awake and sitting in front of the Night Mother's coffin.

_"Sweet Lucien. Son of my loyal Keeper and my obedient Listener. My Listener is gone,"_ she spoke gently.

"Where is my mom?" I asked, voice just as soft and quiet.

_"A child has prayed to her mother,"_ was she said, completely ignoring my question. _"Have my Keeper go to Solitude and speak with Corpulus Vinius. Accept his gold, then eliminate the target. So begins a contract, bound in blood. But first you must tell him the binding words, or he will not believe you. Darkness rises, when silence dies."_

"You are no help to me," I scowled at her.

"Is Lucien being driven mad by Mother's silence?"

I glanced up to see my dad staring oddly at me, only a foot away. He must have snuck up on me. I felt my cheeks turn red, unsure as to how to respond.

"Darkness rises when silence dies," I finally spoke, breaking the silence. He looked startled. "You need to go to Solitude. Speak with Corpulus Vinius."

"You heard Mother," he accused softly. I nodded, and he looked away. I heard him sniff. "Mother picked you to be Listener."

"Is it a bad thing?" I asked.

"No," he choked. "It's wonderful Mother spoke to you. Cicero knows that Vicente will take over as Keeper when Cicero passes, but never dreamed that Mother would speak to Lucien and tell him the Binding Words. But Mother only speaks to the Listener...And Cicero is sure that there can only be...one Listener..."

I could see where he was going with this. If Mother was naming me Listener...then did that mean...that Mom was...dead? But I never got to meet her...and if so...how did she die? Where was her body? Was it given a proper burial?

"Cicero will head to Solitude in the morning," he promised me softly.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. Cicero chuckled softly, ruffling my hair.

"Do not be," he told me. "Mother might have taken Cicero's Listener to the Void, but she gave him his eldest son and daughter back, something poor, humble Cicero has prayed to her nightly for since they were taken. And she picked Lucien as the new Listener, and when Cicero passes, Vicente will be Keeper."

I didn't know what to tell him, so I just nodded as I stood up. Cicero was staring painfully at the Night Mother's coffin. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. He returned it just as tightly before releasing me and bidding me a restful sleep. Sparing one last look at the Mother's coffin, I headed back to my bed. Parwen was snuggled deep in the furs on her side of the bed, but she stirred when I slipped in beside her.

"Where were you?" she asked sleepily. I kissed her neck and wrapped my arm around her.

"I'll tell you in the morning," I promised. She accepted this and went back to sleep. I knew that I laid awake for nearly two hours before sleep finally came to me. And my sleep was not restful.

* * *

_"Dovahkiin!"_

I shot up in bed when the words echoed throughout the Sanctuary and shook the earth slightly. Karita shrieked and immediately questioned what that was. Ignoring her, I looked around to see that almost everybody else was already awake, but still startled by the sudden boom.

"That was the Greybeards summoning the Dragonborn," Babette responded to Karita when she repeated her question. She looked at me in curiosity. "Are they summoning you?"

"I'm not Dragonborn," I told her.

"You can perform the Thu'um," she reminded me.

"Yeah, but so can Ulfric, and he's not Dragonborn," I pointed out.

"You're the reason we couldn't have nice things when you were little," Nazir scowled. "You shouted things to pieces." Babette lightly smacked his arm.

"Should I go?" I asked. "To the Greybeards, I mean."

"Well, they must be summoning you," Parwen said. "You or your mother. One simply doesn't just ignore the Greybeard's summons, it's such an honor. She would show up if there was anyway that she could."

I didn't have the heart to tell them about my conversation with my dad. Plus, maybe they could tell me if I really was a Dragonborn. They insisted I was on my first visit, but now I had all the time in the world to talk and figure it out. I had promised myself that I would go back one day and ask them questions. Granted, a huge number of these questions were answered by now, but maybe, just maybe, they could point to where my mother's body was. But I gave a small prayer that she was somehow still alive.

"I guess I should get dressed and take my leave then," I said, pulling myself out of bed.

* * *

Promising my wife that I would return, I left the Sanctuary with no doubts that she would be safe there.

Cicero had left early that morning with Shadowmere, so I settled on a carriage ride to Riften. From Riften, I walked to Ivarstead. I accepted a bag of supplies for the Greybeards from Klimmek's new widow. After briefly sharing her grief, I made my way up the mountain. I passed some meditating pilgrims and some hunters happily dragging home a wolf or bear to their families. When I reached what I believe was the 4,000th step, I saw nobody else until I reached High Hrothgar.

I put the supplies in the normal chest before strolling up a few more steps to the door. Not sure if I should knock, I decided to just go ahead and enter. Closing the door gently behind me, I looked around. I noticed two men in grey robes, who immediately noticed me.

"You've returned," one spoke. As I walked up to them, I recognized him as the one who helped me my last trip here. "Are you delivering supplies, or did you finally accept my earlier statement and have come to answer the Greybeards' Dovahkiin summons?"

"Both," I replied with a smile. He chuckled softly.

"While I'm pleased you finally accept your dragon blood, I'm afraid we were trying to summon your mother," he told me.

"But if he is Dovahkiin, will he not still be of use?" the other asked, his voice raspy. He looked a lot younger than the first Greybeard. This one barely looked old enough to even grow a beard.

"Yes, and no," the first told him. "We need his mother not because she is Dragonborn, but because she also has the respect of both Ulfric and General Tullius along with the Greybeards' complete trust."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I believe we never properly met," the first said, completely ignoring my question. "I am Master Arngeir, and this is Novice Hadring. He's our newest student."

Hadring smiled at me.

"I do not think my mother will be coming," I told him. He looked completely surprised and questioning.

"She's never ignored our summons before," he replied. "She certainly would never ignore them now."

"My brother said she left three years ago and never returned," I explained. "My father said that there is good reason to believe that she has passed."

Master Arngeir looked conflicted, not sure whether to believe me or not.

"We shall wait two months," he decided. "Plenty of time for her to answer our summons. If not…I suppose that we will need you instead. As Dragonborn, you should still gain the respect of both men. And I know that the other Greybeards will find good reason to place their trust in you. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here. "

"If I am to stay here that long, I need to send a letter home to inform my wife and father," I said. "Or else they'll believe me dead too."

"Wife? You married?" Arngeir asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Congratulations, Dovahkiin," Hadring told me, voice low and still raspy.

"No, no," Arngeir chuckled. "His mother is Dovahkiin. This is Little Dovahkiin."

"Thought you said it wouldn't be fair to call me little anymore," I joked. I stood nearly a head taller than the elder.

"To the Greybeards, you will always be that little boy his mother carried up the 7,000 steps," Arngeir replied with a smile at the memory. "The cutest Dovahkiin any of us had ever seen. I'm afraid we spoiled you in your short time here. Your mother scolded us when she came here a year afterwards, saying that you became sick with all the sweets we fed you."

I laughed, and Hadring let a small chuckle escape him.

"Why do you need my mother?" I asked him. Arngeir's grin fell, and he became serious.

"Our leader, Paarthurnax, believes that this civil war needs to end," he told me. "Do you know the story of your mother's defeat against Alduin?"

"I know the story, but I didn't know it was my mother when I heard it," I admitted. He nodded.

"The basic prophecy goes as this: It is told that civil unrest after the murder of the High King of Skyrim as well as the destruction of Tamriel. It tells us that Alduin would return with souls in the forms of fierce dragons, and that only a Dovahkiin could defeat him with the power of the Thu'um. Prophecy says that the Dovahkiin will destroy him in a final battle, restoring peace to Skyrim and Tamriel. Alduin is destroyed, but peace is not here," Arngeir summarized. "I had thought peace had come, but Paarthurnax has gained knowledge that the war is at its fiercest. He asked us to summon the Dragonborn so that he could tell her how to bring peace to Skyrim."

"How would we bring peace?" I wondered. I had seen the soldiers from both the Imperial Legion and Stormcloaks marching past or through Whiterun during my years as a Companion. Vilkas had said that there had been war since he was about my age.

"He didn't say," the Greybeard replied. "But when your mother comes, we will soon know."

"If she comes."

"When," he corrected me. "Now, since you are here, I believe I have a promise to you I should fulfill."

"Which is…?"I asked slowly, never remembering him promise me anything.

"Well, not to you. To your mother. I promised that when you returned, that I would accept you as a student," he told me. He motioned to the doors behind him that lead to the courtyard. "Would you like for me to teach you the rest of Unrelenting Force? And perhaps a few other shouts, Little Dovahkiin?"

* * *

In two months, the Master Greybeards taught me everything that it took them all their lives to learn. Novice Hadring was taught alongside me, although he struggled to grasp and learn that I was mastering in minutes. I felt awful for immediately knowing and absorbing the knowledge, watching him stare dumbfounded at the dragon language scratched into the stones and try to shout with nothing but normal shrieks escaping him. It didn't seem to bring him down.

"It's an honor to learn alongside the Dovahkiin," he had told me in his raspy voice with a forgiving smile. I later learned that it was normal for normal humans to have raspy, hoarse voices and pained throats for a bit after beginning their journey to learn the Way of the Voice.

I had traveled down to Ivarstead regularly to send a courier to my wife, telling her what was happening, that I missed her and the others. In return, I got letters in return, normally a bundle with a message from Amaya, my dad, Parwen, Babette and on occasion Nazir and Vicente.

At the end of the two months, Arngeir looked at me sadly before teaching me Clear Skies so that I could go to the Throat of the World and talk to Paarthurnax.

My mother never came.


End file.
